Private A Different Night

[Niysha]

As it was old metal, the tube tasted like old metal. Fortunately, it did not explode. Infuriatingly, it changed in no visible way. If Niysha was surprised by this, as with most things, she didn't show it.

Hm. Boyfriend. That might set a boundary. Niysha had been recently reminded that some people were romantically exclusive to a single partner, as bizarre as that sounded. No matter how bubbly, personable, and refreshingly sane Scherezade was, if she already had a date, there was a non-zero chance she wouldn't be open to a second. No need to push without knowing. She'd have to keep it in mind for the future.

"I can't think of anything good," the Miraluka replied with a shrug. "I guess it's not a name that's easy to shorten. I'm kind of in the same boat." Don't say girlfriend, don't say girlfriend. "My friend tried 'frizz' for a while, but I hardly think that stuck." Also it was a solemn reminder of the most uncooperative part of her hair. That might have had something to do with why In had dropped it.

After a moment of letting the conversation settle into conclusive silence, Niysha stood off of her cantina stool and gave a mighty stretch. Within seconds her bag was back over her shoulder, and she took just a moment to tighten her blindfold. "Think I should head out. I don't have a problem with you following, if you want to. I'm just going to check out some of the geegaw shops around here to see if they have anything interesting."

She wasn't heading anywhere without the cryptex, but that wasn't point of stress. She didn't expect Scherezade to try to keep it from her.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Well that was… Uneventful. No explosion. No change in any visible way. Scherezade felt the bitter tang of disappointment that happened even when you had no expectations, and it tasted exactly like old metal. With a grump, she handed the object back to Niysha .

And wrinkled her nose. "You don't feel like a Frizz," she said, nodding with agreement at the fact it hadn't become a thing. The link between the word and Niysha's hair went entirely unnoticed by the Sithling, "and I think shortening to Isha would be super weird since it's one of the words used for female in one of the Sith dialetics. And sha is well… no."

But that was all right. There were only a few people Scherezade used nicknames with anyway, and those had also evolved organically, like the mold you got when you left something outside for too long. And just like with mold, sometimes you could use it to make cheese or antibiotics later.

And now Niysha wanted to get out of the place.

"I'd love to," she said with the biggest, warmest, earnest smile her face knew how to make. She didn't have a bag, so she jumped off the chair without any grand ceremony and just let Niysha lead the way.

And as they did, Scherezade felt no need to fill the silence with any words. They were going to be friends. But she did need something to do while they walked. And so, out came a little simply hum of another Hutteese lullaby, that unknowingly to her, had gone out of the cycle quite some centuries ago.

 

[Niysha]

Tube secure. Niysha zipped her bag up and wandered off into the rust-meat-gas-and-blood smell of the superstructure with a new friend in tow. She had a rough idea of where she was going, and considering Scherezade's general devil-may-care process, the slightly bizarre way Niysha navigated might not have even registered. It was, in essence, a form of dead reckoning using "where" the Force "wanted" her to go as a compass, with occasional radar pings from her sight.

At times, it could have been very easy to mistake her for being lost, but she never stopped moving with confidence.

When the Miraluka heard Scherezade humming, she half-turned her head towards her for a moment to shoot her a grin, but continued walking without breaking her pace. "Do you know how cool it would've been if I could hear, like, three seconds of someone humming a song and come up with 'aha, yes, Lakufta te Chawa Mana Munga, the Krayt-era Desilijic hymn of acquisition.'" She smirked back over her shoulder and shook her head. "No such luck. I'm awful with music. History is primarily a physical medium, and audio recordings don't tend to stand the test of time nearly as well."

Ah, there it was. When they passed within about fifty meters of the trinket shop she was looking for, Niysha plotted a couple of turns to make sure they'd make it there. She was in no rush, didn't pick up the pace, and took no shortcuts. Why would she try to shorten the amount of time she spent with someone who was interested in her stuff and patient enough to deal with it?

"For the record, I am planning on paying for anything I pick up here. With money. I've stolen from curio shops before, but I probably won't need to this time," she explained matter-of-factly, adjusting the shoulder strap of her bag. "And hurting the kind of people who run these stores tends to result in a whole bunch of very interesting things with higher intellectual than monetary value getting reposessed by loan sharks and mothballed for decades."

There were a few things more tragic than that, by Niysha's estimation, but not many.

Scherezade deWinter